


Soft and Sweet and Gentle

by deepspacepine



Category: The Haunting of Hill House (TV 2018)
Genre: Gen, Healing, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Non-Linear Narrative, gay luke crain, i simply... wanted luke to hold some babies, non-graphic description of a birth, overuse of motifs, steve has no rights and i WILL not apologise, these are not all happy times sorry in advance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:08:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24109504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepspacepine/pseuds/deepspacepine
Summary: 5 times Luke Crain held a baby; before, during and after
Relationships: Eleanor "Nell" Crain & Luke Crain, Luke Crain/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 82





	Soft and Sweet and Gentle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dyrimthespeaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dyrimthespeaker/gifts).



The hospital after the House is small, not really split into wards so much as corridors. Luke shares a room with an old smoker, larynx gone, but good at cards. He doesn’t mind that Luke’s hands shake too bad to shuffle, and Luke doesn’t mind the quiet. 

They encourage him to go for walks, so Luke follows along (aimless now really, he thinks, without Nellie to follow). They rest together. The smell of the place bothers Luke, but he doesn’t realise until he takes a deep breath of air in the courtyard. Rot. Underneath, always rot. It will take him a long time to shake that one.

Their footfalls are blessedly unshadowed. Something flickers in the corner of his vision, occasionally. But fainter every day. Fainter, and he is stronger. Every day ticks one longer clean, one further than he’s ever been. He walks. Time passes.

He still shirks the maternity ward. He doesn’t know- doesn’t admit- why. But you can’t run forever. Don’t they all know that now? He laughs, bitter, and Theo gives him a look that says she sees right through the cynicism.

“Thoughts you’d like to share with the class, Luke?” She quirks an eyebrow. Theo is just so consistent, and that breathes some life back into his cold hands. He stares at them, picks at a hangnail on his thumb. Jerks when it bleeds. Theo watches him and reaches out a careful hand to rest over his, stilling them. A bare hand, and Luke wants to jerk away again. To protect her from him, the fog in his head. 

But he doesn’t move. Doesn’t want to disturb the gentle peace- And, and something more. It’s that, the warmth is nice. His neck doesn’t hurt. No phantoms pains in his limbs. No shadows around his grave. No rain upon the window.

“C’mon,” Theo says, surprisingly gentle. “Let’s take a walk.” Her hand stays in his as they stand, and that’s big enough to stutter the breath in his chest. 

They walk in silence, out onto the streets around the hospital and everything draws Luke’s eye. The gentle drizzle on the trees. A stem crushed by a passerby. The sweet, green smell finally clearing the rot from his nose. A bird flits past his peripheral vision and scares him into freezing. Counting.

Theo waits on the other side of the fear. He takes the step to meet her and they wander on. The rain stops after three side roads. Theo taps a cigarette out of the pack in her back pocket, lights it with a deep inhalation.

“I don’t know if you’re allowed to smoke yet, but I won’t tell if you don’t.” Theo holds out the cigarette, a peace offering. Luke starts, hadn’t realised he’d been staring. He jitters, takes it, doesn’t think about the warmth it provides too hard, too deeply. They loop back around to the hospital. Luke inhales deep and prepares. Steels himself. It's only Theo.

They reach the doors at the same time as a family is exiting. A mother in a wheelchair, and a father, a baby in arms who looks to be about one, giggling. The parents look tired but fresh in that way Luke envies. He wants all of a sudden, the want he’d been suppressing. He wants. A hunger. A wish. 

The family stop, waiting for a lift, and Luke can’t pull his eyes away from the baby. The mother says something as they pass, and Theo slows him down with their still joined hands. Elbows him after a second of silence.

“Oh, uhm, sorry?” He tries to focus, to look regular. She notices the in-patient tag on his wrist and smiles sympathetically.

“I was saying, I saw you admiring, did you want to hold him?” Her smile broadens, proud. “We’re just waiting for our lift.” The father nods, approaching.

“Oh, I. Hm. Are you sure?” Luke fumbles, not wanting to hurt this woman. But he’s scared. Their baby looks sweet, small, delicate. And his hands are not steady. Not clean.

“Oh, we love to show her off.” The dad laughs, bouncing the baby on his hip. The mom waves him forward, smile wide.

Luke takes the boy, dropping Theo's hand, tucks him neatly against his hip and straightens his little dinosaur print onesie with one hand. The baby gurgles and tugs on Luke's t-shirt collar, his other hand in his mouth. Luke smiles. He cannot smell the rot over the scent of the baby's head, cannot imagine the cold red death of the House with life so near. His hand steadies as he rubs the baby's back.

The parents watch him, touched to be touching him. Theo watches too, but quieter. She probably already felt it. Luke turns towards her, rocking back and forth with the baby. Looks at the flowerbed over her left shoulder, can't twitch because of the baby but damn if his hands don't try to anyway.

"Theo. I, uh." He croaks. Whispers not loud enough to be heard two steps away. Chokes.

She just waits. The baby gurgles and claps its sticky hands together between them. Color leaks into the edges of the world a little further. Luke counts. One two three four five six. Rip the bandaid off. Seven.

"I'm gay." He can’t look.

"Okay." She's not surprised. He looks at her for a split-second. She's level. Okay. Okay.

"Cool." The baby kicks in his arms so he lifts it up and up from his side, bounces him overhead until he's giggling again. Smiles at his smile. Entranced. The parents laugh as they take him back, glowing from Luke's gratitude. Wrapped in joy, cloaked in it. Him and Theo head back in, down the corridor. 

"Thanks." He stares at the floor as he says it. Zones out into the pattern of the link, swirling shapes. Theo knocks her shoulder into his. 

"Only alone if you want to be, Luke." She says it like an oath. 

***

The second baby, he’d rather forget. She’s tiny, premature, and born with the shakes. He’s high when she comes into the world. She doesn’t cry. He knows that’s bad- that he needs to help her. 

Her mother shivered and held his hand. She passed out as soon as the baby was born, shuddering breaths slowing down. Exhausted. He pulls the afters out, ties off the umbilical cord with the string that was the mother’s belt. Thanks whoever is listening that his hands are steady. He rubs the baby’s tiny chest with one finger. Its face screws up, but no cry. Voiceless. Somewhere distant, he worries about both of them, but he can only carry one. The baby. He’s sure they aren’t meant to get cold, so he pulls one arm out of his sleeve, hugs her and everything close inside his shirt. 

He knows the hospital. It’s six blocks away, path burned in his memory. He doesn’t have shoes at the moment, and the pavement leaches the warmth from his feet. Soon they’ll be numb. His chest and arm are sticky. The baby stirs. Seeking. Shaking. His stomach clenches around an ugly guilt, but she needs something none of them can get her. Methadone.

A car speeding past startles him, and he feels the familiar prickle of skin at the back of his neck. He counts. One. Two. He hugs the baby closer. Three. Four. Five. He shivers, violently, clenches his jaw to try to stop it. Six. Seven. Breathe. Step. Breathe. Step. Breathe. Step.

The baby is sleeping now, he thinks. He peeks into his shirt to check, and its little wrinkled face has smoothed out. Calm, dribbling slightly, alive, alive, alive. He can feel its rapid heartbeat against his chest. He knows they’ll ask about the mother. He hopes she'll be fine. He hopes. He'd forgotten. 

The nurse is kind, and gentle with him- with them. The lights hurt his eyes, and he shuffles back and forth, conscious of what he looks like. High. Dirty. Never clean. The doctor is not kind, but he is too tired to really care. The nurse takes the baby, gently asking him questions he cannot answer, before whisking her away to be washed and clothed. He stands in the waiting room, in a sea of people moving back and forth, walking with purpose. His chest is still warm, where she laid.

Next week, he starts rehab, again. His rubs at his chest. He breathes.

***

Steve is hovering. This isn't unusual, and Luke is used to it. And yet-

"I can-" He sighs, "I can change a baby, Steve."

"Yeah!" Steve's voice is too bright- a lie. "Yeah, of course." He pats Luke on the shoulder, moves back maybe half a step. Luke smothers another sigh.

Leigh is napping on the couch, hair over her eyes. Theo and Shirley clatter about in the kitchen, cleaning up their lunch. The silence is growing, yawning. Luke's hands move without thought. He actually- he took classes. He knows Shirley did too, before Jayden, so he guesses it’s normal. 

But, still- He thinks about the second baby, the street one. Debates bringing it up with Steve, but he would probably take it the wrong way. Maybe Luke's not a good person, maybe he's not redeemed. But he can change a baby. 

He sings, mainly to fill the silence, to ignore how much Steve's gaze feels like- To fill the silence. It's low, something barely remembered that Joey used to hum when he couldn't stop shaking. The baby stops wriggling, big eyes, still blue, zeroing in on him. He flexes his tiny fists, spit bubbling at the corner of his mouth. The shape of his little button nose already reminds Luke of Steve. 

Luke finishes and wipes his hands, mops the baby's face with the cloth on his shoulder, picks him up. Keeps his back to Steve as he rocks. The anger in the pit of his stomach mixes with the shame, but his hands stay soft. Always soft. Always gentle. He hums again, a new tune. 

"What is that?" Steve sounds strangled.

"What is what?" Luke moves them gently round to face him, eyes fixed on the wall beside Steve's head.

"The- the song." He huffs, throwing his hands between the two of them. "The one you were humming just now."

"I- I don't know." Luke strokes the baby's back, not sure who he's soothing.

"I do," Shirley says, from the doorway. She closes her eyes, tight, too tight. Theo is over her shoulder, watching with sharp eyes. "I do. Mom used to- Mom used to sing it when we were little." Luke doesn't remember, but he doesn't remember a lot of things. Has tried to forget. 

Steve nods, takes a deliberate deep breath, but Shirley can't see, eyes still screwed up like she can't bear to look. 

"It's- it's alright, Shirl. Steve. I won't sing that one. I didn't- I didn't know." Luke stumbles over the words, but his movement is steady. Above all, the baby. Above all, care. Shirley shakes her head, lips pursed. The walls seem to bend in on them and Luke paces to the centre of the room, hunched over Steve's kid. 

“It’s just- that night. With Nell, uh, before. Before we knew.” She swallows, presses the heels of her palms into her eyes, then removes them and looks Luke dead in the eye. “Before Dad called, I had this song stuck in my head- no words, no idea why. I think, uh. I think she must have been singing it- Nell, or Mom, or whatever echo was in the House. That- that night. That tune.” That makes them all fumble. Steve crosses the room to a chair, folds into it, staring dumb at the floor. Theo places a hand on Shirley’s shoulder, eyes wide. Supporting, leaning.

Luke shuffles away from Shirley’s gaze, skin too tight. “I- I, uh. I’m sorry.” He strokes the baby’s head with one hand. “I’m sorry.” This time addressed to Steve. His right eye won't stop twitching and he rubs at it with his free hand. 

"No, it's. It's good." Steve shifts, posture opening. Face earnest. "Look. The baby's the quietest he's been since- well, since forever, I guess." Luke inhales sharply, then feels the echo of Shirley and Theo doing the same. "And, and so what it's from Mom? We have to remember some good things from her."

"Not just the House." Theo's voice is low and bitter.

"Not just the House." Steve nods, stands. The walls bend back to their rightful place, but Luke still struggles to breathe. His skin feels too tight and his hands- his hands pollute. He moves to pass the baby back to Steve. The rot, the rot.

“That’s not-” Steve’s confused, and Luke wonders that he cannot see. The House lingers on Luke and everything he touches.

“Luke-” Shirley cuts herself off, unsure. The shadows in the room stretch and grow.

“Jayden.” Theo is forceful, two quick steps to reach his side, then moving his arms back to his shoulder. The baby fusses at all the movement and Luke rubs his back, automatic. “He’s fine, isn’t he?” Luke dares to look up at her, straighten his back an inch. "And the baby at the hospital? After?"

“Yeah.” He coughs, words congealing in his throat. “Yeah.” That’s true. Theo gestures to the baby, bright eyes blinking at Luke. He reaches one pudgy fist to grab at Luke’s hair and Luke laughs. “Yeah. Thanks.” Gingerly releases his hair from the small hand and rocks the baby again. 

Steve watches, and his smile almost reaches his eyes. Theo’s are too full of understanding for Luke to look at directly. Like the sun.

Shirley's tight smile says, be not afraid.

***

Luke imagines what his other siblings will see, staring dead-eyed in the service station mirror. His hands shake, droplets of water scattering across his shirt as he tries to wash his face. A disguise. A front. Or as much as he ever can, in front of Nell. 

He’s sweating, too, but maybe he can pass that off as nerves. Do people get nervous around a newborn? He thinks he’s timed it about right. He’s certainly not loopy any more- he can focus- and his eyes look okay, maybe a little tired, but then they all get nightmares. He’ll just- do this visit, play the nervy little brother and then he-

Well, he can go from there.

"Jayden." Nell says. Luke blinks.

"Huh?" He doesn't remember the rest of the drive here. That's bad, right? That's probably bad. 

"The baby- they've named him Jayden." She's distracted, from the excitement, he guesses. She's bouncing, body taught and neck craning as they walk up to Shirley's house.

"Jayden. Uhm." Luke stumbles. Nell glances to him and her eyes widen. He looks away, but she knows. She sees. Nell always sees- it’s a twin thing. His lips twist bitterly.

The door opens before either of them can speak, and it's Kevin, bags under his eyes but still smiling to see them. "Hi, guys. Baby's sleeping right now so-" he holds a finger to his lips. Nell reaches forward to embrace him and Luke trails behind into the house. 

Theo and Shirley are in the kitchen, Theo washing dishes and Shirley sat on a cushioned stool at the counter. The baby- Jayden, Jayden, Jayden, Luke rolls it around his tongue- is in a bouncer chair on the counter. He's well, wonderful. A miracle. Perfect, tiny rosebud mouth and giant cheeks. Full of life. Nell exclaims softly and embraces Shirley before staring down at him, awestruck.

"He’s amazing, Shirl."

"Yeah." Shirley looks tired, but she's joyful. Unburdened, maybe. Luke stumbles again, and all eyes in the room flick to him. Seeing, watching. He shakes.

Theo dries off her hands and turns to face the room fully, looks him up and down. And suddenly Luke thinks, actually, he's timed this completely wrong because he's sick to his stomach and it hurts. He has to close his eyes, lean on the wall for support. He hopes Nell can't feel this, because it's worse than everything. Anything. Breathe. One. Two. Three. Breathe. Four. Five. Six. Breathe. Seven. 

It passes.

Theo’s lips are pursed, but she stays quiet. For now. Luke is suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude that Steve isn’t here. He’s saved by Jayden- he blinks awake and wriggles, cries, demanding attention. He settles quickly in Shirley’s arms, only wanting a feed. Nell coos at him, small smile infectious in the room, and he’s quickly transferred to her arms. She blows a raspberry on his stomach and he gurgles.

It’s almost enough to make Luke laugh. He hangs back, out of the way, as the conversation flows around him about this and that. Adult stuff he never got the chance to learn. Or maybe he did, but he skipped out on the opportunity. He doesn’t remember. He scrubs the back of his neck, tries to ignore how much he’s trembling. The air in here is hard to breathe, and he swallows, swallows, swallows. But it’s stuck in his throat.

“Luke?” He looks up from the kitchen tile and Nellie is right in front of him with the baby. “Do you want to hold him now?” He coughs. Theo’s eyes on him have physical weight. Nellie, bless her, sees his panic and just powers through. “See? Hold his head like so, and then his butt in the crook of your arm.” She completes the pass, and Jayden is in his arms. Terrifying. He breathes shallow, not daring to move from the position Nell placed him in. How wild does he look? Nell stays close, she knows, she feels he needs her reassurance.

Jayden is fascinated with the light, just staring up at it without blinking. Luke read once babies can’t see color this young. He thinks he understands why they cry, in that dull gray world. He doesn’t know, can’t think what he’s meant to do, meant to say. Should he have washed his hands?

“Uh. Hi, Jayden? I'm Luke.” He cringes at the roughness of his voice. Is that what you say? Jayden wriggles and kicks and the panic returns full-fledged. “Nellie, I-” he rushes the baby back into her arms. His skin crawls and pulls, tugs at his insides. There’s something, there’s- it’s coming. Ravenous. “I, uh. I-”

He runs to the bathroom, feet unsteady. His vision is tunnelled in one eye, and the ghost, the fear, the House is close at his heel. Let Shirley hate him. But he can’t, shouldn’t, won't bring that shit in there. Not to a baby. Luke scratches his arms, pulls the hair at the back of his neck. Fuck. Fuck.

He leaves. He gets well. He goes to rehab, and Shirley pays for it. It doesn't stick.

He doesn’t get to see baby Jayden again.

***

The worst is the night he dreams. Nellie’s face is lit up, a smile as wide as the sun. Arthur’s even wider, if that’s possible. The three of them are crowded over a wooden cot, in a room that’s fuzzy at the edges. At the time, he doesn’t notice. Yellow light streams in through the single window.

They watch, silent. He barely dares to breathe. It feels like a sin, to disturb something so untroubled. The baby stirs anyway, tiny hands stretching up and Nellie, his Nellie, reaches down to console it. One slender finger mashed in its fist. Arthur tuts and scoops the baby up, rocking it back and forth. So careful. So gentle.

His heart feels like it’s blocking his throat and he doesn’t know why. Nellie is soft, soft in warm light, and smiling, and the room is warm around them. She motions for Arthur to pass the baby to him and he takes it, strokes its tiny cheeks. Rearranges its little red blanket. There is nothing he would not do. Nothing. He tightens his arms around the baby. Safe, safe, safe. Be safe. 

He feels laughter in his chest, so light. Bubbling up uncontrolled, joy spilling over. His cheeks hurt from smiling. He looks up at Nell-

Luke wakes up crying. Alone. He hugs his chest and screams himself raw.

***

Little Nola might be the most perfect thing Luke has ever seen. To hold in his hands, to carry her- it is sanctity. Sanctifying. Is this how Shirley felt? Is this what Steve's tears were for? What Theo's hands conveyed upon every child through her door?

She's not newborn, no, she was fostered for six months before they could place her. Before they found her. She is still so unbelievably small. And so loud. He likes that, though- that she makes herself known. Proves she's alive. And it’s easy to know what she wants at this age, after all.

Luke props her head on his shoulder, cradles her as he bounces side-to-side. Sings under his breath and shakes her favorite rattle, smooths down her clothes where they get ruffled as she fusses. 

“It’ll be alright, Nola.” He holds her out from his chest, and she stops crying, gurgles. Curious at the change, blinking at the lamp behind him. “There we go. There we go." He spins slowly, dipping her back and forth. "I wonder what color your eyes will be?” She kicks her tiny legs, crying forgotten.

“Are you gonna have light eyes like me, little one? Or dark eyes like your Baba?” Luke brings her in close to his face, so their noses touch. Nola jerks her arm and bats one of his eyes with a surprisingly strong fist. He yelps, then laughs as she follows it up with a sneeze. Her nose wrinkles and she looks so much like a grumpy old man he can’t help but snort.

“Everything alright?” Adam leans on the door, spatula in hand. His expression is halfway between concern and bemusement. Luke wipes at his watering eye with the muslin cloth on his shoulder, crosses to kiss the wrinkle on Adam’s forehead away.

“Yeah. We’re all fine.” 

“Discovering her mean right hook?” Adam leans across, swaps with Luke, the spatula for Nola.

“Something like that.” Luke’s heart clenches to watch them, as Adam spins their Nola around, up and down, up and down. Veg simmers on the hob for later, and their omelette is frying now. A meal, just for him. He’s dizzy with love. His partner. His- His daughter. 

God. His daughter. He might never get tired of thinking that. Might never get used to it. She is just- so small. Soft and sweet and gentle. Breakable. He loves her, completely.

And Luke is afraid, but he has been afraid since he was six years old.

**Author's Note:**

> i made myself cry writing this but it was totally worth it. i love luke, completely. 
> 
> hope you enjoyed this aleks!!!!! thanks for holding my hand through the scary bits of the show <3
> 
> kudos and comments always appreciated :^)


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